


head goes through the windshield

by ShyAudacity



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Car Accidents, Fever, Fever Dreams, Hurt Jughead Jones, Jughead Jones-centric, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Movie Reference, Nightmares, Other, Panic, Queerplatonic Relationships, School Shootings, Set whenever honestly, Sick Jughead Jones, Sickfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Jughead, Vomiting, Whump, could be gay if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity
Summary: Jughead comes to in a panic, sitting up and yanking his legs close again. Dizzy, he hunches forward, curling into himself. It feels like his heart is going beat itself out of his chest, a warm arm slinks across his shoulders and he can’t help but flinch at the contact. He doesn’t often like to be touched, something about it has always made his skin crawl. Even with his own family members, physical contact wasn’t something that he like to just hand out. Jughead had to want it, or it caused him to feel funny.A familiar voice starts speaking in his ear and he relaxes the slightest bit. “Jug, Jughead hey, it’s just me. It’s Archie, you’re okay.”ORJughead is sick and having a Bad Time.





	head goes through the windshield

**Author's Note:**

> All I ever do is make Jughead suffer, honestly. It's almost too easy. 
> 
> Unbeta'd and title from Seventy Times Seven by Brand New.

Jughead walks into the library during free period, feeling a little foggy. He’d been late to school that morning and couldn’t seem to shake the tired sensation that had nested in his limbs. The second he’d stepped foot into the library, he was spotted by Betty who told him he had promised to help herself, Veronica, and Kevin study for midterms. Although he didn’t remember agreeing to help them, Jughead went along with it anyway, the nap he had planned to take could wait for later.

“Where’s Archie? I thought he was coming with you.” Betty asked him.

Jughead pulls a face, ready to say that he hasn’t seen Archie all day. Before he can, the heart-stopping echo of a gunshot goes off outside. Another goes off and Jughead feels his stomach try to leap into his chest.

Veronica’s eyes go wide. “Was that-?”

“Under the table,” Kevin orders, pushing them down. “Get under the table, now.”

All four of them crowd under the small table just as a third shot goes off, closer in range this time around. The sound of screaming and other hysterics has broken out in the hallway, students rushing into the library looking for somewhere to take shelter. Jughead watches a stampede of legs rush past him, a part of him is glad that he can’t see the terror on their faces.

Betty is pressed firmly against his back, shaking in fear. She whispers, “Who would do this? Why would someone shoot up the school?”

Jughead doesn’t respond, too worried about the fact that he doesn’t know where Archie is. His best friend could be hurt or _worse_ … and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it. He can’t stand feeling helpless like this. He looks towards the door, watching as a familiar pair of boots strolls into the library. He knows that walk… he’s seen it nearly every day throughout his life.

“Who is it?” Kevin whispers. “Jughead? Can you see them?”

Jughead turns his head, looking at his friends. Veronica has pressed herself into Kevin’s side, and Betty is still at his back, her hand tight on his shoulder. As if he isn’t in control of his own body, he starts moving on autopilot, taking Betty’s hand off of his shoulder, crawling out from under the table.

“Jug, stop, what are you doing?” she snaps at him, careful to be quiet.

Jughead gets to his own two feet, screaming at himself to hide, to get back under the table before the gunman sees him. The said gunman is less than six feet away, his back turned to Jughead, a pistol in his right hand and sporting a Southside Serpent Jacket on his back. The next thing he knows, someone is screaming, using a voice that sounds a lot like his. Jughead feels like someone else is using his body as a puppet.

“Shoot me,” he yells at the man. “C’mon, just get it over with. Shoot me!”

The gunman turns around finally, and Jughead is face to face with his father. FP is wearing that same sly grin that always made Jughead uneasy as a kid. An icy chill spreads itself over his entire body.

“I thought you’d never ask.” FP raises his right hand, aimed directly at Jughead’s chest. The gun goes off and then-.

*

The first thing Archie does when he gets home is drop his backpack at the front door before going up to his room. Coach Clayton had canceled practice because half of the team was out sick, the flu had been going around at Riverdale High. He’s surprised when he walks in and finds Jughead asleep on his bed. He laughs lightly, then upon further inspection, he notices that Jughead is far more pale than usual.

Careful not to wake him, Archie places his hand on his forehead, sighing at the heat radiating off of Jughead’s skin. Swiftly, he goes into the bathroom and runs a cloth under cool water before bringing it back, draping it over the back of Jughead’s neck. Moving slowly, Archie gets the sick teen out of his jacket and flannel, leaving him in just a t-shirt and jeans. Archie has almost successfully gotten both of Jughead’s shoes off when he wakes up.

Jughead comes to in a panic, sitting up and yanking his legs close again. Dizzy, he hunches forward, curling into himself. It feels like his heart is going beat itself out of his chest, a warm arm slinks across his shoulders and he can’t help but flinch at the contact. He doesn’t often like to be touched, something about it has always made his skin crawl. Even with his own family members, physical contact wasn’t something that he liked to just hand out. Jughead had to want it, or it caused him to feel funny.

A familiar voice starts speaking in his ear and he relaxes the slightest bit. “Jug, Jughead, hey, it’s just me. It’s Archie, you’re okay.”

But it’s not okay, not to Jughead. The nightmare keeps replaying in his head, he keeps seeing his father’s twisted face looking back at him every time that he blinks. It’s making him nauseous, more than he already is.

“I’m gonna be sick,” he groans.

Archie is quick, moving to get a trash can in between Jughead’s legs before he tosses his cookies. Jughead heaves, and then tells himself getting a burrito at school that morning for breakfast was a bad idea. Once he’s ceased vomiting, he curls his arms around his stomach, having realized how cold he actually is. The back of Archie’s cool hand touches his cheek, and he drops his forehead to his knee at the contact.

“You’re really burning up, Jug. We should go downstairs where it’s not as warm, does that sound okay?”

Jughead hums low in response, and Archie takes it as a yes. Slowly, he eases Jughead into a standing position, then winds arm around his waist. It takes them longer than it should, but the two of them make it downstairs in one piece. Archie gives him some painkillers, and Jughead swallows them dry, nervous that they’ll come back up again.

Twenty minutes later, _Inception_ is playing on TV and Jughead is asleep, his head resting on Archie’s knee.

*

Jughead is in a moving car and he doesn’t know how he got there. His eyelids feel heavy, as does every other part of his body; it's like he couldn’t move even if he tried to. He knows somehow, subconsciously, that he’s in Archie’s truck. The smell of fast food and ‘needs to be washed’ football gear prominent in the air.

The foggy feeling is back, and Jughead manages to move his neck enough to see Archie in the driver’s seat. His hands are clenched tightly around the steering wheel and his seatbelt is off. He looks over at Jughead, his face white as a ghost and full of fear. Jughead wants to ask him what’s wrong, but then they’re being hit from behind. The car skids, swerves into a ditch, and Jughead is forced to watch as his best friend’s body goes flying through the windshield.

He wants to say something, hell he should be screaming right now. His jaw feels like it’s made of lead, but no matter what he does no noise leaves his mouth. The next thing that Jughead knows, his mother is standing in front of the totaled truck, his sister Jellybean at her side. He’s never seen either of them so distraught, so disappointed in him. For a moment, he feels like this whole accident is all his fault, he wishes he could remember why he’d gotten in the car in the first place.

 _“What did you do?”_  she screams at him. _“How could you do this? How could you ruin everything?”_

Jellybean starts crying while their mother continues to scream at Jughead.

Then, Jughead finds himself no longer in the passenger’s seat. Instead, he’s in front of the shattered truck, right where his mother used to be. He looks over, and his mother is right where he was mere seconds ago strapped into the front seat. Jellybean is curled over the dashboard just like Archie once was; both of their eyes are opened yet lifeless. He thinks that he hears sirens for a moment, but then Jughead realizes that it’s actually him, screaming at the top of his lungs.

 _“How?”_  he yells at the mess in front of him. _“How could you leave me all alone? Why didn’t you take me with you?”_

*

Archie is at the scene in the movie where Arthur and Ariadne kiss when his dad walks in the door. Fred raises an eyebrow at the sight in front of him; Jughead is asleep on his son’s lap, his face pinched in discomfort. Archie gives him a head nod, then, gently trades out his lap for a throw pillow for Jughead to use.

“I was gonna call you, I came home and Jughead was-.”

The sound of a strangled breath cuts him off; Archie whips around just in time to see Jughead fall off of the couch, smacking his forehead on the coffee table. The two Andrews men rush over, they find Jughead writhing on the floor, half awake and confused. Archie sees the blood on Jughead’s temple and gasps to himself, biting his fist.

“Archie, go to the kitchen and get me a towel and a few Band-Aids, alright?” Fred says his tone calm.

As Archie walks out of the room, Jughead starts come out of his sleepy haze and begins to panic. There’s a warm hand on the top of his head, touching his hair and _his hat._ Goosebumps come to life all over his body at the feeling, a starts siren going off in his head telling him that he has to get away. He can’t see what’s happening, hell he barely remembers where he is, why would someone be touching him?

“Hey, hey, Jug, stop trying to move, alright? Your head is bleeding and we should-.”

Jughead’s flight response kicks in before Fred can finish, and he’s pushing himself to his feet on weak limbs. Once he’s upright he regrets it, having stood up too fast the dizziness is quick to follow. He stumbles backward, nearly falling into Archie, who steadies him with a hand on his shoulder and his arm.

“Hey, Juggie, c'mon, sit down before you pass out,” Archie says quietly, all but manhandling him onto the couch.

Jughead has a tight feeling in his chest, he swears that he can still hear his mother screaming at him. When Archie sits down next to him, Jughead doesn’t stop himself from reaching for his arm, squeezing it like it’s going to protect him. Blearily, he looks up, having realized that Fred was trying to speak to him.

“What?”

“I asked if it’s okay that I take your beanie off. I want to clean up your forehead to make sure that you don’t need stitches, is that alright with you?”

Jughead gives him a half nod, his head suddenly feeling heavier than it did a minute ago. When Fred touches his face, he has to force himself not to retreat. He looks down while the older man cleans him up, realizing that he has a tight grip on Archie’s hand. Jughead doesn’t let go, too afraid that Archie might disappear should he stop holding onto him.         

He barely registers Fred putting a bandage over his cut, the underlying feeling of panic coursing through his body is the only thing that’s keeping him awake. His skin feels like it’s on fire, but Jughead can’t stop shaking. Whether it’s from the fever or the nightmare still going on in his head, he doesn’t know.

Archie places a cold cloth on Jughead’s neck once again and watches him visibly relax, shuddering all the while.

 _I want to die,_ Jughead thinks to himself, and Archie tightens the hold on their combined hands, as if having read his mind. Jughead only half hears Fred leaving the room, saying something about him calling his foster parents. He settles back into the couch and Jughead drifts off for the third time. With his head-on Archie’s shoulder, he finally falls into a dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a multi-chapter fic right now and I can't wait to see what people think about it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope that you liked it, if you did feel free to leave a kudos or a comment. If you have a prompt, you can leave it for me here or at my Riverdale blog via tumblr (archieandrewsprotectionsquad). Thanks again for reading, have a great day!


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